belong. "Quite so, Doctor. I'm all for toleration, and let the parsons
fight it out among 'em! Busy men, like you and me, haven't time to
worry about these affairs--we've other things to think about!" He
stretched a long arm for a box of cigars, and handed it to his
visitor; "sit down for a bit. There's no hurry. The ladies can have it
all their own way for a while!"

Dr. Mangan lowered his huge person into an armchair of suitable
proportions, and for some moments smoked his cigar in appreciative
silence. As a matter of fact, he was planning an approach to the
subject that had instigated his visit to the library, but he was in no
hurry to begin upon it, remembering that the longest way round is
often the shortest way home.

"By the way, Major," he said, taking the cigar from his mouth, and
regarding it with affection, "did some one tell me that you were
looking for a farming horse?"

"If they didn't, they might have," replied Dick. "McKinnon's at me to
get another. I was going to ask you if you knew of anything?"

"Well, now, that's funny. I was wondering to myself this morning what
I'd do with that big brown horse of mine. He'll not go hunting again,
he never got the better of that hurt he got. But he's the very cut of
a farm-horse. You see, the poor devil had to carry _me_!" ended
the Big Doctor, with a laugh at himself.

"I'll tell McKinnon of him. He wants a horse that will--" a recital of
the accomplishments exacted by Dick's steward followed.